


A Million Worlds Apart

by SiriuslyThatBitch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aromantic, Asexual Character, Cunnilingus, F/F, Fluff and Smut, HP Fluff Fest 2020, Happy Ending, Head Girl Hermione Granger, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Light Angst, Oral Sex, Soulmates, Vaginal Fingering, ancient spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26067046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiriuslyThatBitch/pseuds/SiriuslyThatBitch
Summary: After spending the bulk of her childhood fighting a dark wizard, Hermione was looking forward to a relaxing year. Too bad fate always has something else planned, including ancient spells, sarcastic roommates, and a suffocating amount of sexual tension.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson, Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas
Comments: 19
Kudos: 153
Collections: HP Fluff Fest 2020





	1. And This Just in

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my wonderful beta, the prompter who inspired this piece and the mods for running such an amazing fest.

All around Hermione the great hall was in complete and utter chaos. The entirety of the 8th year class was yelling over one another. Pairs of students were in each other’s faces as the teachers tried their best to regain control, rushing out the students from the lower years.  “Everyone calm down.” Minerva Mcgonagall called from her position at the front of the room. Her wand was pressed to her throat so her voice echoed a bit off the stone walls? 

“Calm down? We’ve all been hit with some unknown curse and you’re telling us to calm down?” Theodore Nott scoffed from the Slytherin table. 

“It’s hardly as if any of us are hurt here.” Hermione replied, shooting him a disapproving look. The blue light from the yet unnamed spell had been blinding. At first it seemed like nothing more than a patronus or something similar. That had all changed when it targeted the returning eighth year students, hitting them square in the chest. She wasn’t sure how it had felt to everyone else, but a comforting warmth seemed to wash over her like waves lapping at the shore. 

“Easy for you to say.” The brunet boy said. “You aren’t finishing some random Ravenclaw bloke’s sentences.” 

“I think you’re being...” Suddenly her voice caught in her throat, cutting off mid sentence. 

“...ridiculously full of yourself.” Pansy Parkinson said from her position next to Nott. Although the comment was the kind of petty retort she had come to expect from the girl, her shocked expression most definitely was not. “What in Merlin’s name…” Pansy stopped, and Hermione found herself speaking without meaning to.

“...was that, Parkinson!” Both girls had eyes wide as saucers. The room was dead silent. 

“This is…” Nott spoke up again. 

“...too good to be true.” The aforementioned Ravenclaw, Terry Boot finished. 

Hazel and brown eyes narrowed at the two boys. Snickers of their classmates filled the small space infuriating Hermione all the more. Good Godric what was going on here? This was unlike anything she’d experienced before now, and she found she rather hated speaking in fractured sentences. Especially when they were sentences shared with one, Pansy Parkinson. 

“Now, now everyone. No need to get rude with one another.” Minerva scolded. “You’d think we’ve all had more than enough fighting to last a lifetime.” 

Everyone’s head bowed for a moment at the reminder of all they had lost in the last year. It was only early October, and thus far they had all managed to avoid hexing one another. The animosity was still present on some level, but after witnessing true evil, it was hard to think too harshly of their fellow classmates. 

“I apologize, Headmistress.” Nott said, sitting down quickly. It appeared the proud pure-blood wasn’t immune to the feelings that gripped Hermione tightly in their grasp.

“Yes, well it’s late. I think it best you all return to your rooms for tonight. We will address…” Minerva paused pursing her lips and staring at the students in thought. “Whatever this is, in the morning once we’ve all had a good rest and are thinking clearly.” 

With a clap of her hands, all of the students were dismissed to their common rooms. Hermione resisted the urge to look at the Slytherin table, or the black haired girl she knew would be moving from it toward the double doors of the great hall. 

Hermione made it to the fifth floor corridor and whispered the password “unity”, before stepping past the statue into the common room of the head’s dorm. The furniture was a mix of sleek black leather couches, and soft and fluffy beige armchairs, perfect for curling up with a good book. A freestanding fireplace was dead center of the room casting shadows around the room. 

The entrance had barely closed when her fellow Head, Theodore Nott swept into the room. 

“You really should be more considerate, Nott. We’re supposed to be setting an example, and inciting a riot against the Head Mistress is hardly doing that.” Hermione said, hands on her hips. 

Theo raised one eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest in a defensive stance. 

“Do you want to have this argument right now, Granger? Or are we just going to pretend everything that happened downstairs wasn’t completely mental?” Theo scoffed. “You can’t honestly expect me to believe that you aren’t the teeniest bit distressed at playing “finish that sentence” with Pansy?” 

“That’s not at all the point.” Hermione insisted. 

“Then why did you look like a bloody ghost when you were forced to finish hers?” He cocked his head to one side. 

Her mouth open and closed like a hungry grindylow. To be candid she didn’t rightly know, but she refused to let the Slytherin boy get one up on her. 

“If you must know, I think I ate some bad chicken at lunch. Not that it’s any of your business.” She stuck her nose in the air, but still had to look up at him slightly. “Now if you’ll excuse me I must head to bed.” She turned on her heel and walked directly toward the door on the right. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Granger.” The boy laughed from behind her. 

The slam of her door was all the response she gave in reply. Hermione threw off her robe, and tossed it onto her nearby desk chair. Kicking off her shoes she grumbled and marched over to the overstuffed bookshelf next to her desk. There had to be something in one of her tomes. 

Transfiguration was quickly shoved aside. It wasn’t malicious so defense against the dark arts wasn’t likely either. She had never heard of a charm that could do such a thing, so her best bet was her books on enchantments of some kind. It was a long shot that this involved potions of any sort, for one dosing only the eighth years would be exceedingly difficult, and much too risky in the long run. Better safe than sorry she figured and grabbed the potions tomes as well.

Three bloody hours, and eight exceedingly unhelpful texts later, she still had nothing that even hinted as to what they might be dealing with. It was times like these that she especially missed her best friend. Not that he was helpful in the research realm, or academic knowledge of this kind, but she would at least have been able to borrow his invisibility cloak. Which she would absolutely need to get into the library at this hour. Even the head girl didn’t have the luxuries of late night perusing the space. Which meant she would have to wait until the following morning to have even the slightest hope of getting her hands on any leads. 

Hermione groaned and flopped back on to her bed, staring up at the enchanted ceiling of her bedroom. The serene night sky did nothing to ease her foul mood, or quiet her racing mind. She despised being helpless, and at the moment that is exactly how the Gryffindor felt. Without getting off her bed she wiggled out of what she was still wearing and climbed under her duvet replaying the scene in the great hall in her mind on repeat. 


	2. Margins and Discipline

“Bloody hell, Hermione. Those bags under your eyes are bigger than Dean’s…” Seamus was cut off by his boyfriend’s hand slapping over his mouth. He shoved his hand away and raised one eyebrow at him in question. “I was going to say shining personality. Get your mind out of the gutter, Thomas.” With a wink at his blushing boyfriend he took a sip of his pumpkin juice. 

“Yes, because we all believe that.” The words were said in a chuckle from Neville on Hermione’s left. 

For her part, she simply smiled and shook her head at their antics. It was true she missed Ron and Harry, but she had gotten a chance to know the other boys better and she was happy for the opportunity. Unfortunately Seamus’ observation was spot on. She had slept a whopping hour and a half the whole night. That had only been with the aid of her favourite camomile tea. 

The boy’s conversation was soothing background noise as she tried desperately to keep her eyes open. She grabbed the nearest caffeinated tea bag and poured hot water in the mug to let it begin steeping. Though she enjoyed coffee on rare occasions, tea was always her preference. Hermione had only just taken her first sip of tea when the Headmistress stood. 

“All eighth years are to remain in the great hall.” The words were followed by frustrated groans, but none of the students made to leave as the other years shuffled out. 

Glancing up at the staff table Hermione jolted slightly. Bill Weasley sat next to Flitwick, and was joined by Headmistress Mcgonagall soon after. It was true he was a well known curse breaker, but as Hermione had deduced the previous night, she highly doubted it was something so nefarious. Once the hall was clear the older woman spoke again. 

“Attention. After last night’s development I contacted Mister Weasley. He is a curse breaker and expert on rare enchantments and magical artifacts. I’ve asked him to examine you all to the best of his ability to try and gain some insight on our predicament.” Stepping back she swept her hand back to let the rugged man address the students. 

“Um, hello. As Minerva said, I’m Bill Weasley, and I hope I’ll be able to give you all some insight. From what I’ve been told it appears that some of you seem to have been linked or paired off in some way. I’d like you all to approach in those pairs if possible, and those without another, or unsure of who you may possibly be linked to please wait until the end.” He gave a reassuring smile as the twenty five or so students shuffled forward. 

Hermione held back an audible sigh as she locked eyes with Parkinson across the room. She seemed to raise one eyebrow in question, and the Gryffindor crossed her arms over her chest in a defiant stance. There was no way she would let the other woman think she had some kind of leg up on her. 

“Granger.” Pansy nodded stiffly at her Hermione. 

“Parkinson.” It seemed both women were afraid to say much more than a single word to one another. As if anything larger than three syllables would trigger the odd phenomenon. 

Three pairs stood in front of them, but neither broke the silence, keeping nearly a meter between them both as they waited their turn. 

“Oh hello, Hermione.” The ginger man smiled down at the girl he considered a little sister, and hugged her gently before turning toward her counterpart. “I’m sorry. I don’t believe I know your name.” He held out his hand to Pansy who viewed it as if it may jump out and bite her. Refusing to grab the offered hand she gave her response.

“Pansy Parkinson.” It looked like she barely resisted curtseying as she spoke, and Hermione couldn’t help but snort at the overly formal introduction. “What are you laughing at?” The obsidian haired girl snapped, sneering at her. 

“Nothing at all, Parkinson. Nothing at all.” Hermione snickered. 

“Yes, well let’s get to it then.” The baritone of the older man said. He rubbed his neck awkwardly and looked between the two. “I’m just going to ask you a few questions and cast a diagnostic spell or two. Nothing painful, I promise.” Winking cheekily at his Gryffindor friend he started his questioning. “Alright, so what exactly seems to be happening? How does it feel when you finish each other’s sentences I mean?” 

“Like my body has been taken over...”

“...by an insufferable swot.” Pansy finished. “Salazar’s sake, would you…” 

“...stop being so difficult!” Her voice rose several octaves as she narrowed her eyes at the pure-blood woman. 

“I meant more how it happens. Is it like a suggestion, or more of a compulsion?” It was clear he was uncomfortable watching the two spar in shared sentences. 

“It’s like my voice is stolen mid-sentence. No matter how hard I try to keep talking, I literally cannot.” A frustrated huff left Hermione’s lips. 

“Then I’m forced to speak whether I mean to or not. It’s precisely what’s ever on mind at the time.” Pansy grumbled, looking down at the stone floor.

“Definitely a compulsion then. That’s consistent with what your classmates said as well.” With a contemplative look he cast a series of spells. A hot pink thread ran from the center of Hermione’s chest to the center of Pansy’s. It was precisely where the blue light had hit her before, and both women’s eyes went wide at the appearance. His next spell surrounded them both in a golden light that sent a shiver up their spines. “Well that would certainly explain…” Bill cut off his mumbled words and when he didn’t continue Hermione spoke. 

“Would explain what?” Her hands found her hips as she looked into the man’s blue eyes. The older man blushed as if he hadn’t realized he had spoken the words out loud. 

“It’s nothing definitive, yet. I’ll have to examine the others first and I will let you all know. I promise.” Her hazel eyes narrowed in on him, giving her best scathing glare. It had always worked on his siblings, so perhaps it would be effective on him as well. “You can go back to your seats now.” Though he looked away from her, his voice was strong and with a huff Hermione walked back to the Gryffindor table. 

Dean and Seamus had been among the first to return to the Gryffindor table after Hermione, and she couldn’t help but narrow her eyes on the two. Whatever this spell or enchantment was had paired the two together, and quite frankly she was feeling cheated for getting paired with Parkinson. It took nearly an hour for the man to finish his examination of the eighth years, and each second that ticked by was soaked in misery. 

“Alright. I believe I know what’s going on here. It appears to be some variation of the soulmate enchantment.” Scoffs and gasps filled the small space at Bill’s words, but the room stayed silent when McGonagall gave the students a stern glare. “Yes, well. It’s an ancient spell that was used to try and pair witches and wizards with their best match. The pairs were linked by a single pink thread. The closer to red the thread the stronger the match would be.” Hermione gasped as she recalled the dark pink ribbon that ran from her chest to the other woman’s. “As for the finishing of sentences, that’s a modification I am sorry to say, I am unfamiliar with.” 

“That means you can break it right?” The voice belonged to who Hermione believed was Justin Finch-Fletchly. Although her view of the Hufflepuff table was a bit obscured. 

“Well that’s complicated. Curses and jinxes can be countered because they have a malicious effect. Spells or enchantments like this one are only reversible by the caster themselves. Since we have no idea who could have cast it, I’m afraid you’ll all have to let it play out. There will be a solution of some kind and I imagine it will become clear to you as some pairs begin to, well stop finishing each other’s sentences as it were.” 

“What are we meant to do in the meantime? Keep spouting out our thoughts like a bloody Hufflepuff?!” Blaise Zabini scoffed from the Slytherin table. “No offense to you all, but I prefer to keep my more intimate thoughts, intimate.” The Hufflepuffs shrugged in response and looked to Bill again for his answer. 

“My best advice is to spend time with your match. You were clearly paired together for a reason. Even if you don’t know it yet, you were compatible enough for a very old and powerful magical force to connect you to one another.” The eldest Weasley looked back at McGonagall who nodded to the students at large. 

“You heard Mr. Weasley. I’ve given you all until your second lesson free. I think it would be wise of you all to discuss any future plans you may wish to arrange with your matches.” Clapping her hands Minerva left the great hall with Bill Weasley not far behind. 

“Wait! Bill.” Hermione rushed after the ginger man who hunched his shoulders in what appeared to be a wince. 

“Yes, Hermione?” His tone was apprehensive as Hermione moved to stand in front of him.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Although her voice was quiet, her indignation was clear in the set of her mouth and the hands firmly on her hips. 

“I’m sorry, but I’m quite certain that is what’s going on here.” The man rubbed the back of his neck, looking apologetically at the young woman. 

“It’s Pansy bloody Parkinson, Bill.” The words hissed through her lips. “She’s not even interested in women. She’s spent the entirety of our Hogwarts education hanging off of Malfoy like a bowtruckle to its tree for Godric’s sake!” 

“I noticed your issue was that Pansy didn’t like women.” He raised one eyebrow in question. The Gryffindor woman’s mouth dropped open as she searched for the words she needed. “There’s no need to defend yourself, Hermione. I’m simply pointing out that you spent the greater part of your adolescence chasing after my ponce of a brother, but clearly also have an eye for the same gender. Is it really such a stretch to believe Pansy might as well?” The questioning look on his face baffled her for a moment. 

“Well, I suppose it’s possible but,” 

“You’re the smartest witch of the age. Surely you know that magic like this works with purpose.” Bill cut her off short. He was making sense. It was entirely not the point, however. 

“Yes, but…”

“No buts, Hermione. Instead of fighting against something you cannot change and a battle you can’t win perhaps you should try and figure this out?” When she opened her mouth to argue again Bill raised both eyebrows at her, giving a terrifyingly accurate impression of his mother’s own scolding glare. “You may surprise yourself.” With those words the man turned on his heel and made his way through the doors and out of sight. 

He was absolutely bonkers if he actually thought that there was even the slightest chance that she and Parkinson had the smallest thing in common. Merlin, they’d butted heads since they were eleven years old. It had been their mission to make one another miserable. The Slytherin woman was much more overt with her taunts and distaste, but Hermione got her own back with subtle manipulations and rumors that just so happened to spread through the Hogwarts halls. All was fair in love and war right? 

Regardless of Bill’s conclusions she didn’t plan to spend a single second in the other witch’s presence. The spell would wear off sooner or later, until then she simply had to avoid being anywhere near Parkinson. Which would likely be easy considering her course schedule, private dorm, and all the time she spent in the library. It was highly unlikely the snooty woman even knew where the library was and she certainly wasn’t in more than one or two of Hermione’s N.E.W.T. level courses. 

With a snort she hitched her bag on her shoulder and walked through the large doors on her way to the charms classroom. She completely missed the aggravated glare a certain pure-blood witch shot her on the way out. 


	3. Making Something Out of Nothing

Luckily it was Friday, which meant she only had two classes left today. Charms and Herbology were perfectly fine minus one detail. Parkinson had been in both classes, and had looked as if she was about two seconds away from hexing her all the while. 

Even worse the Slytherin had taken to raising her hand each time a professor asked the class a question. To Hermione’s knowledge the woman hadn’t answered a single question in the six years they’d been sharing classes. If that hadn’t been bad enough the snooty little pure-blood had had the correct answer each time. The professors had been so surprised to see the woman’s perfectly manicured hand in the air that they had called on her each time, awarding Slytherin house the points that usually went to Gryffindor thanks to Hermione. 

By dinner, the brunette was positively fuming. How dare she put on such a display, taking what was rightly hers. Clearly she had to be cheating and looking up the answers somehow. There wasn’t a chance Parkinson had become a scholar overnight. No, the snake was cheating, she just had to figure out how she was doing it and expose her for the fraud she was. 

Stabbing her roast pork Hermione was drawn from her musings by Neville’s soothing hand on her shoulder. 

“You okay, Hermione? You seem tense, well tenser than usual.” He gave a joking smile as she turned toward him. 

“I take it the meeting with your soulmate didn’t go over well?” Dean asked, taking a sip from his goblet. Seamus looked curiously at her from beside his boyfriend.

“Please.” She scoffed in response. “As if I wasted any time actually talking to her afterwards.” 

“Wait. You didn’t even try to have a conversation with her?” Seamus furrowed his brow in question. 

“What’s the use? It’s not as if we are actually matched to one another.” Taking a dainty bite of her dinner she looked back up to the three men’s troubled look. “Surely you can’t be entertaining this mess? The spell must have malfunctioned or something!” Pursing her lips down at her plate they ate in silence for several moments. 

“The eighth year Gryffindors are having a party of sorts in the common room tonight. It’d be nice if you’d join us.” The man beside her offered hopefully. 

It had been quite some time since she’d had any actual fun, and recent events certainly warranted a stiff drink or two. “I’d love to. I’ll have to drop off my bag in my room, but then I’ll head right up.” He smiled back and with a quick nod she climbed over the bench, making her way to the head’s dorm. 

Throwing her bag onto her bed she changed into a more comfortable ensemble of jeans and her favorite sky blue sweater, making sure to put a t-shirt underneath for later. After a moment of thought she shrunk one of the bottles of Ogden’s she had stashed in her trunk, and slid it into her pocket. Technically it was against school rules to have alcohol on campus, but she figured a childhood spent as a soldier more than justified things. Especially since she was nineteen years old and well over the wizarding age of maturity. The halls were surprisingly quiet as she made her way up to the tower. When she got to the portrait of the Fat Lady she whispered the password and stepped through the entryway smiling when she saw the three boys sitting in the common room. 

Seamus and Dean were cuddled up on the couch with Neville in one of the overstuffed chairs across from them. Smiling, Hermione sat in the open chair, and pulled the bottle from her robes, enlarging it. 

“Hermione’s, brought us the good stuff, Lads.” Neville laughed as the other two men cheered. 

The brunette woman shook her head, breaking the seal on the bottle and taking a healthy swig before passing it over to Neville. After spending the summer at so many wakes, she had become accustomed to the slight burn, and even liked it from time to time. After choking a bit on his own sip of whiskey Neville Leant forward to hand the bottle to the muggleborn man. 

“I am pleasantly surprised at this new development.” Dean said from his position on the couch. “Can’t say I didn’t wish you’d come party with the rust of us ruffians throughout our younger years.” 

“She was too busy breaking much bigger rules, Love. Isn’t that right Hermione?” The Irishman chimed in, taking a healthy swig of the firewhiskey. 

“You don’t know the half of it, Finnegan.” She winked and grabbed the bottle taking another large gulp of the liquid. “Although, at least with the rest of that there was an eventual happy end goal. My current situation, not so much.” Rolling his eyes Neville grabbed the bottle and took a much better drink this time. Only wincing slightly at its aftereffects. “You don’t have any room to talk Neville. How is it that you’re the only one this stupid spell missed?” 

“Well, erm…” He took another swallow of the liquor as if looking for a healthy dose of liquid courage. “It didn’t miss me.” 

“But that doesn’t make sense. Bill said that the spell would match us all with our soulmate.” She drew back in confusion. 

“Actually it’s a soulmate for marriage purposes, which would imply an eventual romantic pairing.” The brunet boy was blushing slightly now. 

“You’re splitting hairs now, Neville.” She huffed slightly. “There still must be a soulmate for you of all people.” 

“I actually do have one. According to Bill it’s really rare, but in this case, I’m my own soulmate.” Neville smiled sheepishly at his friends. 

“Well, cheers to your happy future and self love.” Dean raised the bottle and took his own drink before passing it to his boyfriend. Both Hermione and Seamus gave a hear hear in response, grinning at their friend. 

“Thanks you guys. I’ve just never felt that attraction to other people. It’s nice to know there’s nothing wrong with me, and with friends like you all, what more could a man need?” It was clear the alcohol was working its way through the Gryffindor boy’s system as he spoke, smiling at his friends. 

“Well what about you two? How are you even really sure you are each other’s match? I haven’t heard you finish one another’s sentences. At least not in that way.” Hermione stared at the other two boys who were nauseatingly happy in each other’s embrace. 

“That’s because you don’t share a room with them. Trust me after having to listen to them shag last night,” Neville gave a shiver, “they are definitely soulmates.” 

Dean had the decency to look slightly abashed at their friend having overheard their antics, but Seamus smug grin told the room just who had forgotten to cast the silencing charm the night before. 

“As gross as that is, what did you do?” 

“Well, you see Hermione when two wizards love each other very much…” Seamus started in his thick Irish accent. 

“NOT WHAT I MEANT. I understand the mechanics of sex thanks.” The witch’s cheeks were flushed, but she decided it must just be a side effect of the alcohol rushing through her veins. “I meant, what did you do to break the spell? You aren’t finishing one another’s sentences so you must have done something.” 

“We honestly don’t know.” Dean stepped in before his boyfriend could give some no doubt lewd reply. “One minute we were completing one another’s sentences and then it just stopped.” He shrugged, and the small amount of hope that had started to build within the Gryffindor witch crumbled like a shortbread biscuit. “I wish we could help you out, but my best advice is to try and talk to Parkinson.” 

Instead of voicing a response Hermione grabbed the bottle back and chugged a third. This was not the relaxing night she had planned, but at least soon she’d be too pissed to remember why she should be upset. 


	4. Tell Me How We're Not Alike

Monday morning had started so well. She’d gotten down to breakfast early enough to grab two cups of tea and three of her favorite cinnamon scones. After she had managed to get back to the Head’s dorm after their drunk misadventures in Gryffindor common room on Friday night, Hermione had spent the rest of the weekend cooped up in her bedroom. 

Luckily she’d made friends with the House-elves and they were more than happy to bring her meals in her room so long as she didn’t give them any of her poorly knitted clothing. She did her best to put spells, soulmates, and a certain onyx haired Slytherin out of her mind by working on her assignments and reading the novels she’d managed to grab when she’d gone to Flourish and Blotts before classes began. 

She’d fleetingly noticed most of the other students were sitting with their soulmate pairs. A few were openly holding hands and sitting much too close, while others seemed to have formed a more shy tiptoeing acquaintance with their pair. Despite what her friends said, she still thought avoidance was the best tactic to use in regards to her own “soulmate”. The word itself made her scoff in derision. 

Determined to put it all out of her mind, Hermione finished the last of her tea and headed to Arithmancy. It was hands down her favorite class, and knowing it would be Parkinson free made it all the more sweeter. Professor Vector had always loved her, and the subject matter was complex enough that Hermione thought of nothing but their upcoming assignments for the entire class. 

She had a spring in her step on the way to potions. Slughorn wasn’t as good a professor as Snape had been. Even if he’d been harsh on them Hermione’s potions always turned out much better with his slight modifications. Despite that all she truly did love the class and was looking forward to seeing what they’d be brewing today. The smile fell from her face as she walked into the dungeon classroom however. 

Standing at her usual spot in the front of the class was none other than the bane of her existence, Pansy Parkinson. Which was doubly annoying since she’d been positive the other witch wasn’t in the class to begin with. Growling in frustration she walked past the table to sit at the one behind it. The plan was to ignore, so despite the slowly simmering fury filling her, she wouldn’t say a word. 

“Alright class, settle down.” The portly man entered the classroom with a smile on his face. By the time he reached the front of the class the room was silent. “Today you’ll all be brewing a memory potion. Who can tell me precisely what a memory potion does?” 

Hermione’s hand shot in the air, huffing when she noticed the Slytherin’s hand raised also. Did she honestly have nothing better to do?

“Ah yes, Miss Parkinson.” Slughorn had a curious expression on his face as he waited for the young woman’s answer. 

“A memory potion is used to improve the drinker’s mental cognition thereby improving their memory.” Her voice was an annoyingly soothing alto, but was all the more annoying, because her answer was absolutely correct. Although perhaps she was drinking memory potions herself. That would explain her new foray into academics to be sure. 

“Beautifully said. Ten points to Slytherin, Miss Parkinson!” Slughorn seemed overjoyed at being able to give the house points to his own house, and it took actual effort for Hermione to keep from rolling her eyes. The name said it all, honestly it wasn’t that impressive. “If you’ll turn to page 163 you’ll find the potion recipe. You have until the end of class to brew your memory potions. Good luck.” 

Hermione forced herself to wait until Pansy returned to grab her ingredients. Which had the unfortunate side effect of giving her ample time to study the other witch. Over the summer she’d changed her hairstyle to be much more modern than her bob. While it was still the luxurious black it had always been one side was shoulder length, the other a good four to six inches longer. Most women would have looked like they’d been interrupted mid haircut, but the pure-blood woman pulled it off beautifully, which only aggravated Hermione all the more. Instead of the low Mary Janes most girls wore, Pansy had a pair of round toed velvet heels with a buckle around the ankle. They made her legs look impossibly long, and somehow blended in with her Hogwarts uniform seamlessly. 

Shaking her head she walked toward the storage cupboard on her own. Collecting her ingredients she made her way back to her table, pausing as she caught sight of the other witch bent over her potion’s bench. The look of concentration on her face was aggravatingly attractive. Clearly this stupid spell was messing with her mind. She literally stomped to her table and put her ingredients down at her station with a huff. 

Luck was clearly not on her side today. With a brew time of two hours and fifteen minutes she had nothing but time. At first she tried taking notes on the changes of the potion, but always ended up watching the other witch instead. Next, she tried starting on her charms essay, until she got preoccupied with studying the way Parkinson’s skirt shifted over the back of her thighs as she worked. In a huff of annoyance, she pulled out the new transfiguration text she’d been reading. She’d managed a grand total of five minutes before the scent of persimmon and sandalwood pulled her attention away. Glancing up she realized that the other woman had tossed her hair over her shoulder, sending a wave of the alluring scent her way. Merlin, she was ready for this class to be over and to put at least ten meters between her and Pansy Parkinson. 

By the time she had bottled up her potion and cleaned her station the other witch was long gone. With a grateful sigh Hermione dropped her labeled vials on the professor’s desk and made her way to lunch. Perhaps she was attracted to the other witch physically, but if her short fling with Krum had taught her anything, it was that looks was nothing to base an entire relationship off of. Besides the attraction was more than likely one sided. She may have been a Gryffindor but there was a difference between bravery and stupidity. Admitting that she found the other witch appealing fell firmly into the latter category. 

Grabbing a quick bite to eat, Hermione made her way to ancient runes early and was frustrated to find that yet again the object of her current predicament was present. It was ridiculous at this point and she spent the entirety of the course planning how exactly she was going to confront her. Waiting until the room was mostly empty Hermione left the classroom with purpose. Mustering all her courage she called after the retreating woman. 

“Parkinson!” The Slytherin stiffened before turning around, eyes narrowed. Theodore Nott who had been walking with her turned with a curious look on his face. 

“What do you want, Granger?” Her voice was uninterested in tone, but she held her books close to her chest in a defensive way. 

“I want an explanation.” She walked closer, crossing her arms across her chest. 

“And why in Merlin’s name would I explain anything to you. You’re oh so smart, I’m sure you can figure it out all by yourself Brightest Witch of her Age.” Pansy raised one eyebrow in challenge. 

“Well seeing as you’re suddenly full of answers why stop now?” This close to the other woman she could see the precise lines of her black lipstick, and the perfect wing of her eyeliner. Where did she get off looking this good. Damn snake. 

“Oh, what’s wrong? Gryffindor’s princess can’t take not being the smartest in the room?” Her smirk was as aggravating as it was alluring. 

“That’s not at all true. I’m more curious as to when you suddenly became such a scholar. I mean Godric, how’d you even get into these classes?” Pansy recoiled a bit as if slapped. 

“Okay, maybe you two should separate for now…” Nott tried to cut in. His housemate held up her hand coming up to silence him. 

“Why am I not surprised?” She scoffed. “If you ever paid attention to anyone but yourself, Granger, you’d bloody well know I’ve been in those classes all along. I just had the decency to keep from lording it over others.” Her usually pale cheeks were flushed and Hermione couldn’t help but notice how attractive the other witch looked like this. “Do you honestly think…” 

“... you aren’t bloody fit when you’re angry.” Hermione slapped a hand over her mouth staring wide eyed at the Slytherin, whose mouth had dropped open. “I don’t see…” 

“... anyone else while you’re around.” She looked pained as the words forced their way out. “Salazar’s sake I…” 

“...want to kiss you right now.” The two witches were steps away from each other now, breathing heavily. While so definitely hadn’t meant to say it, Hermione knew it was true. Knowing that the other witch was apparently not only irritatingly attractive, but intelligent, had her blood racing. What was the saying? There’s a fine line between love and hate. She’d never understood the saying until this moment, but from the way the other woman’s pupils were blown wide the feeling was mutual. 

“Umm, should I go or?” The head boy’s voice had both women taking a large step back from the other. 

“I… I have to go.” Hermione turned tail and ran. It wasn’t her proudest moment, but she had to get away before she did something truly mad, like actually kissing Pansy Parkinson in the Godric forsaken corridor. Whether the witch called after her or not she really couldn’t say. She needed time to figure out what had just happened, and how to keep it from happening again. 

Reaching her dorm she was out of breath. She’d run most of the way and didn’t stop until she reached the safety of her own room. Pressing her back against the door Hermione attempted to slow her breathing. 

“Get it together, Granger.” She whispered, shaking her head to try and clear it. It was clear that the spell had completely scrambled her brain, because there was no universe in which she should even be considering the possibility of having any kind of attachment to that witch. That had to be it. There was no other explanation. 

Sure she was arguably aesthetically pleasing. The witch had grown into her body before most girls in their year. Her uniform had always been just this side of inappropriate, but Hermione would be lying to say she hadn’t been a bit jealous of the attention she got from others. When they were younger her nose had certainly been puggish, but now it was only slightly upturned in an endearing way. Her eyes were an appealing shape and a warm kind of brown. She’d never noticed until that moment, but then again she’d never been that close to her before then either. The endless taunts she’d thrown her way hadn’t left room for studying her in such a way. 

Then again since they’d returned she had left Hermione alone for the most part. Yes, there had been the taunt in the great hall, but it wasn’t as if Hermione had been much better. She’d come back this year touting house unity and yet dismissed the idea of even talking to the Slytherin witch. If what she’d said downstairs was true, then she’d made some unfair assumptions about her mental abilities as well. Sure the other witch had taunted her to her face, but Hermione had made sure people had said things about her behind her back. She wasn’t sure which was worse, but neither were innocent clearly. 

Letting her bag fall to the floor Hermione undressed before flopping on her bed and screaming into her pillow. There was no easy answer anymore. She hadn’t kept her distance. She’d been impulsive and reckless and now she couldn’t get the other woman’s face out of her mind. The only thing she knew for sure was that she was undoubtedly screwed. 


	5. Don’t Blame Me for Whatever Happens Next

“Hermione, you know I love you, but if I have to hear about Pansy Parkinson for another minute I will Silencio you and lock you in a broom cupboard myself.” Neville said, running a tired hand down his face. 

“I didn’t even say anything.” Hermione replied. She  _ had _ been about to complain about the fact that the other witch had taken her favorite table in the library, but there was no way he could have known that. Sure, she’d been talking about the other witch quite a bit lately, but it was only to complain about her out of line behavior. Namely, that she hadn’t spoken to Hermione once since what she had coined as the corridor catastrophe. Not that she had attempted to speak with the Slytherin either, but that was completely beside the point. She’d initiated the last contact. The fact that she’d panicked and ran away was of no consequence. The quaffle was in Pansy’s pitch. Which only made her all the more frustrated. 

“Let’s not pretend shall we?” He replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just go talk to her.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Can’t or won’t?” Hermione groaned in response. Wasn’t he meant to be on her side here?

“Does it matter? If she wanted to talk she would have.” She huffed looking at the floor. 

“You’re the Gryffindor here, Hermione. Slytherins aren’t exactly known for putting themselves out there emotionally.” Sighing, she slid down into her chair. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had that particular argument with herself more than once, but it was particularly annoying coming from the usually mild mannered man.

“What if I put myself out there and she laughs in my face? I mean she’s spent the majority of the time since we met laughing at me for one thing or another.” Romantic relationships had never been something she was great at. She’d not really dated Viktor, Cormac had been one date to make Ron jealous, and Ron had been a complete disaster. With such a stellar track record it was no wonder she hadn’t actually pursued the other witch yet. That and the fact that the men had all made the first move. Why in Morgana’s name was this so difficult? Taking a deep breath she told Neville the real reason she was so hesitant about it all. “What if it’s all some stupid joke? Bill said it was ancient magic. That’s the kind of thing old pure-blood family libraries must be full of. What if all of this is just some sick elaborate prank?” 

“Well, then you’ll know and be able to move on. But from what Bill said the spell itself doesn’t lie. I doubt they’d be able to manipulate it in such a way even if they wanted. It paired you two for a reason, I think you owe it to yourself to find out..” He put one hand on her shoulder. “More importantly if you don’t do something you’ll spend the rest of this year chancing finishing her sentences at the most inopportune times.” 

“Fine.” That really did sound dreadful. “You know you’re remarkably wise, Neville.” 

“I suppose that’s what being put in a full body bind curse as a first year by your housemate will do for you.” They both laughed at the memory and for a moment Hermione let herself forget about the inevitable meeting she’d have to plan for later. 

“Nott!” Hermione jumped up as the Head Boy entered the door, black leather bag slung over his shoulder.

“Granger.” He replied with a curt nod, not pausing on his way to his room. 

“Theo, I need your help.” The use of his first name made the wizard stop and turn back toward her. 

“What can I do for the Gryffindor Princess today?” It was clear that the Slytherin man was curious, but in true Slytherin fashion, not enough to show the curiosity on his face. 

“I… I want to arrange a meeting.” The look on the man’s face made it clear that she wasn’t fooling him, but she wasn’t going to offer up any more information than he absolutely demanded. 

“Why ever would you need to arrange a meeting for? I’m right here. Unless, I’m not the one with whom you wish to speak?” His perfectly confused expression grated against Hermione’s already fragile nerves. 

“You know exactly who I need to talk to, Nott.” She replied in a grumble. 

“Oh, back to Nott are we? And here I thought we were becoming close, Hermione.” The wizard’s hand was held against his chest as if he’d been wounded. 

“Are you saying you’d like to be friends with me?” Hermione scoffed in reply.

“Well you’d better hope so, because what you’re asking for sounds suspiciously like a favor, and I make a habit of only doing those for my friends. Unless it would benefit me of course.” He shrugged. “So either, you’d like to be friends or you’d better point out how such a meeting could benefit me.”

“Look. I don’t have time for your Slytherin mind games, Nott. I need to talk to Pa…” A kind of panic overtook her as she realized her near slip up. Unfortunately her mind had long stopped referring to the witch as anything other than Pansy. “...rkinson, and since she’s your friend I thought you might be able to arrange it.” 

“Fortunately for you, Granger this particular meeting will also benefit me greatly.” When she started to question how exactly it could do anything for the man himself she was abruptly cut off. “Never fear, Little Lioness, I will arrange it all. Just make sure you’re back in the common room by seven.” Before she could form any kind of coherent response, most notably a chastisement for his new nickname, the brunet Slytherin was back out of the door in a flourish of green and black. 

Casting a quick tempus charm her heart leapt into her throat. It was six-thirty now, which meant she had a whopping thirty minutes at most to prepare for what could very well be an exceedingly uncomfortable conversation. Worse, she’d be in close proximity with the other witch. Their last encounter hadn’t gone so well, or as her sex drive and imagination seemed to believe, had ended far too soon. 

Luckily, she wouldn’t be alone. Nott had said he would arrange the meeting, and it was his common room also. There was no reason, he shouldn’t be easy to access if he was needed. No, this was a location she had control of and a conversation she had been able to prepare herself for. 

Still, it couldn’t hurt to make sure she looked a bit more put together. Not that she cared what Pansy thought about her appearance. No, this was for her confidence alone. At least that’s what she chose to believe. 

Rushing to her room she inspected herself in the mirror. She’d taken off her robe when she returned from dinner so she only had her tie, top, and skirt on. It wasn’t as form fitting as the Slytherin woman usually wore, but it looked good enough. Surprisingly her hair had stayed in the side plait she had manipulated it into that morning. Usually she didn’t take the time for things like makeup but the last few weeks she had decided to put a bit more effort into her appearance. The light coating of makeup she’d put on was still in perfect shape. Her light brown skin was practically glowing in the mirror, her freckles just this side of visible. At some point the pale pink lipstick she usually wore had faded and she added a light coating. 

“You helped take down Britain's most infamous dark wizard at eighteen. It’s one conversation. You’ve got this.” She knew how it would look if someone were to walk in to her giving herself a pep talk in the mirror, but she didn’t care. It was a technique she used before all of her examinations to help ease her anxiety, and this would definitely be a test of her stress management. 

“Honestly, Theodore. What in Merlin’s name could possibly be so important that you had to pull me up that many flights of stairs this late on a Friday night?” Pansy’s voice drifted in from the common room. Taking a deep breath Hermione made her way out of her bedroom and into the space. 

“Your dear childhood friend can’t ask you to walk up a few stairs? What is this world coming to?” The man’s words almost made the Gryffindor laugh, but her breath seized when she caught sight of the witch trailing behind him. Godric, did she always have to look as if she’d stepped off a runway? 

“Actually, I asked him to bring you here. I thought we should talk.” She tried her best to convey a courage she definitely wasn’t feeling at that moment. Pansy’s gaze snapped onto Hermione, her lips pursed in displeasure. 

“Oh, now you want to talk to me?” The other woman said with a sneer on her face. 

“It’s not as if I was the only one distancing themselves, Parkinson.” It had been ten seconds and the witch was already getting under her skin. 

“Because I would jump at the chance to speak with you when you ran out of the great hall without the slightest thought. Literally every other person in that room was at least approached by their match, and I was left alone to watch my so-called soulmate argue with some bloke before storming out without a backward glance. It didn’t exactly open the door for open communication, Granger.” Her last name had never felt like an expletive until that moment. Truthfully, Hermione hadn’t thought about her initial reaction to the news. It seemed so long ago. That didn’t change the fact that her treatment had been callous, careless, and frankly selfish. Somehow she still couldn’t allow herself to give the Slytherin the upper hand.

“So you expect me to believe that you would have wanted to schedule what, dates with me? I’ll remind you I’m the one who approached you in that corridor.” Hermione fired back.

“Oh and didn’t that go swimmingly. You accused me of being some shallow airhead and then stormed off. You can’t just tell someone they’re fit and admit to wanting to kiss them and then run off. What kind of bloody Gryffindor are you?” Pansy was moving toward her again, and images of the last time she’d been this close to her flashed across Hermione’s subconscious. 

“That’s bloody rich. What about you? Miss “I don’t see anyone else while you’re around.”” The other woman blushed at the reminder of her own confession.

“That was clearly the spell. I had no control.” Pansy snapped stepping even closer. 

“We both know it didn’t make you say anything you weren’t already thinking.” Her eyes flicked down to the other woman’s perfectly painted black lips. It would be so easy to close the foot between them, but her shoes felt glued to the ground. 

“So what then, Granger? Are you saying that you think…” 

“... it’s ridiculously frustrating how hard it is to keep from looking at you.” Whether it was the spell or the heightened emotion of the moment compelling her to finish the sentence she wasn’t sure. Either way she’d said it, and the way Pansy’s breath hitched made it well worth it. “I can’t…” 

“...stop thinking about how badly I wanted you to kiss me.” Pansy’s words were hushed, but full of so much yearning Hermione lost it. 

Rushing forward she used one hand to take firm hold of the other woman’s jaw tilting her head and pressing her lips against hers. The other hand wrapped around her waist pulling her closer so she could feel the heat from the witch’s body. In what felt like no time at all, Pansy's arms looped around her neck and she kissed her back with a passion the Gryffindor had never felt before. Every centimeter of her body was electrified in the best way. 

Parting to take a gasping breath Hermione realized that they had had company in the small space. Pansy had been right, it was easy to forget about the rest of the world when they were together. When she glanced over the woman’s shoulder however, she found nothing but empty space. 

“Why’d you stop?” The Slytherin woman’s breathless voice brought her hazel eyes back to her deep brown gaze. 

“I just thought…”

“Theo knows when he’s not needed.” The witch nuzzled against Hermione’s throat drawing a groan from her lips. “I don’t know about you, but at this moment, he’s most definitely not what I need.” She nipped at her pulse point causing the Gryffindor to moan softly. 

“Definitely not. But don’t you think we should talk before? I mean.” Pansy’s hands had moved to the other woman’s waist, untucking her top from the skirt, running her hands over the bare skin she found there. 

“There will be plenty of time to talk after. I promise, but right now I need you to show me that Gryffindor recklessness you so adore.” Her words made Hermione give a breathless chuckle as she continued. “Because I don’t think I can possibly take another three weeks of staring at you from across the room, Granger.” 

She’d been staring at her too! The admission sent a thrill through her system, and the other witch’s hands slowly ran up her torso until they met the edge of her bra, teasing the flesh with featherlight touches. 

“Hermione.” The word seemed far too loud in the empty space, and drew a confused look from her partner. 

“What?” Pansy pulled back to look at her in question.

“If we’re gonna…” She hesitated not sure what to call what they were about to do. 

“Fuck?” Pansy supplied, a smirk on her face. 

“Yes. If we’re about to fuck, I want you to call me Hermione.” For a moment she worried she’d ruined the mood but the sensual laugh Pansy gave in response proved her wrong. 

“Well then, Hermione.” Her name was a purr and the sound alone had her whimpering. “Tell me. Have you ever had another woman touch you before?” Her breath was like a summer breeze against the Gryffindor woman’s cheek. She had removed her hands from under her shirt in favor of slowly unbuttoning her top, giving an appreciative groan as the other woman’s breasts came into view for the first time. 

“No.” Hermione’s brain was on autopilot as the witch began kneading her breasts slowly through the thin cotton of her bra. She was cursing herself for not putting on something more alluring, but Pansy didn’t seem to care as she spoke again. 

“But I bet you’ve thought about it.” Her voice had dropped into a lower octave that had Hermione pressing her thighs together in anticipation. All she could manage was a nod in response. She was tired of doing nothing with her own hands and began unbuttoning Pansy’s top as well. Of course she wore lace. She didn’t have time to voice her thoughts before the woman was talking again. “I’ve thought about this moment longer than I would probably ever admit. Lying in my bed, fingers buried inside me imagining just what Gryffindor’s princess would sound like when I slid my tongue into her dripping cunt.” An actual moan left both women at the thought. “Would you like that, Hermione?” 

“Fuck, yes.” She sighed, reaching behind her to unlatch her bra own bra sliding both it and her top off before tossing them somewhere across the room. All the nervousness from before had been swept away as her need took over. Pansy wasted no time in rolling the hard, dark peaks of her nipples between her fingers, tugging lightly as she did so. 

Acting on instinct Hermione pulled her face back to hers, parting her lips in invitation. The other woman needed no further prompting, her tongue tasting her hungrily. She’d done a few things in her short lived relationship with Ron, but none of it had turned Hermione on half as much as Pansy had her. Without breaking the kiss she slid her hand under the black lace of Pansy’s bra, massaging her breasts the same way she had done to her before. 

In a moment of supreme Gryffindor bravery Hermione grabbed one of the pure-blood woman’s hands and ran it down her body until it met the hem of her skirt. Using one of her other hand to pull the grey material higher, and tuck it in the waistband she brought Pansy’s hand to rest against the soaked fabric of her knickers. Hermione finally broke the kiss on a gasp as the witch’s fingers began to rub her clothed pussy in achingly slow strokes. 

“Which room is yours?” Pansy panted against her lips, her hand pressing just a fraction harder. “We’re both wearing entirely too many clothes and I want you spread out for me.” 

“On the right.” The words slid between her lips, higher pitched than she would typically speak. A whine of frustration followed when the other woman pulled her hand away. Leading her toward the room, but Hermione smirked as she was pushed onto her bed. 

Both women kicked off their shoes, undressing as quick as possible. Staring at the perfect pale curves of Pansy’s form had Hermione a tab bit self conscious. Her stomach was a bit pudgier than hers, and breasts a tad smaller. The contrast of the two hit her hard, and a voice in her head asked just what in the fuck she thought she was doing right now. What little she’d done with Ron had not at all prepared her for the kind of treatment she suspected Pansy was used to. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous.” Pansy’s voice was filled with awe as her eyes trailed up to Hermione’s face. She bit her lip hard and blushed at the other woman’s statement, but didn’t get a chance to reply before the Slytherin was on her. That little voice was immediately silenced as her arousal took hold again. Hermione’s head fell back against the mattress as Pansy’s warm mouth wrapped around one nipple, her fingers finally, blissfully sliding between her slick folds until she found her throbbing clit. 

“More. Please.” Hermione panted as her expert fingers began swirling around the swollen bead at the top of her slit. Pansy let her nipple slide from her mouth with a loud pop before smirking up at her and crawling down the bed.

“As you wish, beautiful.” She winked up at her before dipping her head between Hermione’s spread thighs. A wanton moan filled the room as Pansy ran the flat of her tongue up Hermione’s cunt in a torturously slow stroke, swirling the tip around her clit in the same pattern as her fingers, before sucking lightly on it. 

She couldn’t help but compare the euphoric sensation to her previous encounters. When she’d brought the idea of oral sex up to Ronald, he’d told her the idea was disgusting and proceeded to go on a fifteen minute rant about how grateful she should be to him for not forcing anything more than the occasional hand or blowjob. The feel of Pansy’s hot wet mouth on her pussy had her thank any and every god or goddess out there that she had broken up with him. The enchanted feeling was amplified tenfold as Pansy carefully slid two fingers into her without warning. It was clear that she’d done this before, and Hermione couldn’t decide if she was happy or jealous that she wouldn’t be Pansy’s first like she was hers. 

“Fuck, just like that.” She’d never been particularly vocal during sex but Pansy’s skilled tongue seemed to bring it out in her. Hermione’s hips began to grind against her tongue, hands moving up to pinch and tug lightly on her nipples. Pansy moaned appreciatively against her, vibrating against her aching core. Apparently the other witch was as turned on by dirty talk as she seemed to be. The fingers she had buried in her cunt curled just a bit, hitting a spot inside that had her seeing stars. There was no way she could go back to pleasing herself after this. The Slytherin had officially ruined her and the wave of her building orgasm had barely begun.

“You’re fucking delicious.” Pansy pulled back for a breath, letting her fingers set a faster pace that Hermione canted her hips in time with. The hard slightly angled thrusts drove away all coherent thought. “Are you gonna cum for me, Hermione?” Her question made the brunette witch clench hard on the fingers driving into her cunt mercilessly. The sound of them sliding into her dripping cunt was bordering on obscene and only heightened her arousal. 

“Oh, Merlin. Please.” Biting her lip hard as whimpers left her in a steady steam. Flashing her a smile, Pansy went back to feasting on her pussy as if it were her last meal. Hermione could feel the heat building to what she was sure would be an earth shattering orgasm as Pansy lapped at her slit. The witch added another finger to her quickly tightening slit making her feel blissfully full. “I’m… fuck.” She was gasping for air, a series of frenzied whimpers making it near impossible to speak. “Pansy, I’m gonna...” The witch sucked hard at her clit, her fingers curving again. The sensations became too much, pushing her over the edge. “Pansy, fuck.” The words left her in a scream. Her cunt tightened around Pansy’s hand as the orgasm ripped through her like an ocean tide pulling her under. Hermione’s back arched hard as she continued to fuck her through it all until she physically pulled herself away from the other woman as she became over sensitive. 

With all the strength she could muster she reached down and pulled the Slytherin up the bed. Having barely caught her breath she found herself kissing Pansy hungrily, pushing her tongue into her mouth and claiming it as her own. She’d never tasted herself before, and the fact that the first time she had was on another witch’s lips made it that more erotic. 

“You’re beautiful when you cum. Even more so when you’re moaning my name.” Pansy said as she pulled back to look down at her, brown eyes shining. If her face wasn’t already flushed from the orgasm she’d just had given her, the Gryffindor would have blushed at the compliment. Biting her lip in thought Hermione slid her hands to the other the other woman’s hips, running one hand experimentally between her thighs. An appreciative moan left Hermione as she felt the wetness that was literally dripping down the soft pale skin. 

“Up.” The one word was a husky command, and the Slytherin raised one eyebrow in question. “I want you to climb up this bed, and straddle my face, so I can see if you taste as good as you look.” Where the command and confession had come from Hermione wasn’t sure. But it certainly didn't make it any less true. It would be a trial by fire for Hermione, but if there was even the slightest chance she could make the other witch feel as amazing as she just had, she was more than willing to give it a try. 

“You don't have to. Just because…” The black haired woman started, her pupils blown wide in arousal despite her words. Her hips had started rocking against Hermione’s hand, but she wasn’t sure she was aware of the action. Which only served to strengthen her resolve.

“I said, up.” She shot her a challenging look as she continued. “You scared, Parkinson?” Pansy’s eye’s narrowed and seconds later, Hermione’s hazel eyes were taking in every inch of the pure-blood witch’s exquisitely trimmed cunt. Even without something else to compare it to, she was sure Pansy Parkinson had the best pussy on the planet. Wrapping her arms around her hips she pulled her down until her slit was hovering directly over Hermione’s mouth.“I’m going to eat this exquisite cunt until you’re screaming my name.” Hermione said, her breath brushing over the glistening slit. 

“I’m hearing a lot of talk, but… Fuck.” The other woman flicked her tongue out experimentally cutting her off. She couldn’t repress her appreciative moan at the unique taste that was Pansy. What she lacked in skill she tried to make up for in enthusiasm. Hermione had always loved a challenge and each gasp, whimper and moan guided her motions. Before long she had the other woman grabbing the back of her head, pressing her face harder into her dripping pussy effectively cutting off her breathing.

“Hermione.” The sound of Pansy’s moan filled the room. Her clit throbbed against the other witch’s tongue and Hermione happily lapped up every drop of cum she could possibly reach. Pansy’s thighs trembled around her head as she slowly came down from her high. Her hands went slack letting Hermione take a gasping breath. 

Once she was certain that Pansy had had a chance to recover she carefully helped her inch down her body until she was straddling her waist. Pulling the black haired witch’s chest down until it was flush with hers she slowly turned them both until they were lying on their side facing one another. 

“Wow. That was…” Pansy started. 

“...incredible.” The Gryffindor finished, a wide smile on her face. Chuckling quietly the other witch nodded, biting her lip. Scooting a bit closer both women threw one arm around the other’s waist and let themselves surrender to the pull of sleep. 


	6. Like All the Rest of the World Isn't There

The brunette witch woke up to an urgent need to go to the bathroom. It wasn’t until she had already relieved herself that she remembered there had been another person in the room. A sense of despair washed over her as she walked back into the decidedly empty room. Had her fears been correct. Had this whole thing been some elaborate ploy to bed her then joke about it with the other snakes. 

Just as the walls started closing Pansy walked into the room, a tray of food floating behind her. The head’s dorms had no window, so she had no idea what time it was, but the smell of a warm cuppa and breakfast had her stomach rumbling. She quickly tried to mask the panicked expression from before and moved to grab her robe from where it was slung over the chair nearby. Without the arousal rushing through her body, being bare before the fully dressed woman felt much too vulnerable for her liking. 

“Thought you might be peckish.” The woman was frustratingly put together for this early in the morning. Especially when she considered the fact that she must look a mess after last night’s activities. 

“Yes, thank you.” Pansy set the tray down on the desk, motioning for Hermione to make her way over. She did so, hesitant until she saw the rashers of bacon on one of the plates. Duplicating her desk chair so there was one for each woman, Hermione anxiously took her seat. 

The two ate in silence, but she couldn’t help but steal glances at the Slytherin. Considering their tables were at opposite ends of the room it was rare she could actually watch the other witch eat, and seeing it up close was fascinating. How any person could make eating breakfast so elegant and seductive evaded even her keen mind. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind, or simply keep observing me like a rare magical creature?” A sly smile spread across the Slytherin’s face as she looked up at Hermione. 

Her cheeks were heated under the other woman’s gaze. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to speak to the other woman, and after they’d had sex a talk wasn’t something they could avoid any longer, but she was still unsure how exactly to proceed. There were things she needed to know, but many more she wanted to. 

“I just. I’m a muggleborn, and a woman. How are you okay, with this all? Don’t you find me…” She wanted to growl in frustration when she was brought up short. After they had stopped arguing with one another she was certain that they’d somehow broken the spell by giving in. Apparently she had been mistaken.

“...Stunning?” Pansy blushed and shook her head. “I know you were about to say disgusting, or revolting, or some other horrid word, but that’s not the truth.”

“But isn’t that what you’ve believed? You and your friends seemed to make sure that I was well aware of that fact.” The other witch’s head fell a bit in response. 

“I suppose at eleven maybe I did believe that. It was easier. You have no idea what it’s like growing up as the only daughter of the only son of a Great and Noble pure-blood house. I was a disappointment to my family the day I was born. After Salazar knows how many miscarriages my mother finally carried a child to term, only to be left with a female.” She scoffed, staring at the ground. “My father made sure to remind my mother of her failings, which were soon passed down to me. Since I couldn’t carry on the family name, I had to find a strong pure-blood match. At the very least I could sell for a good price.”

“That’s horrible. You’re not a lamb at auction.” Hermione couldn’t help herself from responding. 

“I wish you were right. Unfortunately, we are not much better in our parent’s eyes. I was raised to marry, and uphold my traditions. Guarding them from people who would taint them, people like you.” Pansy shook her head in distaste. “It’s all nonsense of course, but at the time I believed in what they taught me. Of course by the time I was a fourth year, I’d realized I was decidedly not what my parents had in mind for me.”

“What do you mean?” She remembered fourth year vividly, most starkly the rumors Pansy had spread to Rita Skeeter about her so-called romance with Harry. Perhaps even worse was watching Pansy cling to Malfoy around each turn. 

“My entire worth was on my ability to marry and produce an heir for a pure-blood heir. Which is exceedingly difficult to do when you aren’t actually attracted to men.” The light pink flush of her cheeks was unexpected, her words more so. 

“But, you and Malfoy looked so cozy.” Pansy laughed in response.

“That’s exactly how we both intended it to look.” The question in her eyes spurred her on. “Pure-blood lessons begin when you’re no more than two. Being a good actor is necessary if you plan to move up in society. Fortunately both Draco and I had the same problem.” The words didn’t quite make sense in her mind.

“Wait, what? Draco Malfoy is gay?” 

“Surely someone as bright as you had to have noticed. Do you honestly think the obsession he had with Potter was nothing more than schoolboy animosity?” Well she had until that moment. Truthfully she’d wondered if perhaps Harry fancied Malfoy during their sixth year, but he’d seemed so happy with Ginny that she hadn’t thought it her place to step in. “We both needed someone we wouldn’t have to actually be intimate with, but show enough interest to keep our parents from trying to force us into a betrothal contract. It worked quite swimmingly until the Dark Lord returned. Everyone was on edge, and you could never be too sure who was your friend and who was watching for some information they could pass along. It got quite lonely in the dungeons.” 

“I never really thought how it might be for you all.” 

“No one’s ever concerned for the enemy.” 

“That’s not…” She tried to reply, but found she couldn’t finish the sentence. It had nothing to do with the spell and everything to do with the truth of Pansy’s statement. They had all viewed the Slytherins as the enemy. They were nothing more than death eaters in training, and perhaps their treatment had been a self fulfilling prophecy of its own. 

“It wasn’t as if we helped ourselves when Umbridge took over, but you have to understand. Standing with any of you would have been standing against the Dark Lord. While we were safe at Hogwarts we had to think about our friends and families beyond these walls. A single step out of line would get back to the Dark Lord and his followers, and it wasn’t you who had to pay for it. We had as much choice in this as the rest of you, our parents just so happened to be on the wrong side.” Pansy had a sour expression on her face, and if Hermione hadn’t known better she could have sworn her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears. 

“You could’ve come to us. The Order would have helped keep you safe.” She insisted. 

“I’m sure they all would have jumped at the chance. My father is a marked Death Eater, Hermione, and my mother would never have risked her reputation. You have to understand, while I didn’t particularly like my parents I still love them. Even if I didn’t agree with their cause any longer.” 

“But if you didn’t want them to win, why did you want to sacrifice Harry?” She could understand the teasing and torment, but giving up her best friend wasn’t something Hermione could make sense of. 

“I don’t have any excuse that I think will satisfy you.” The witch blanched and shook her head once again. “Mostly, I was afraid. I didn’t want my friends to have to watch their families fight the people they’d come to know. I knew no matter what way it all ended there would be losses on both sides. Potter was always running off into the line of fire anyhow, so how was it all that different.” Her expression was pained as she looked up at a stony faced Hermione. “If I could take it back now, I’m not sure whether I would. I’m glad he won the war, but I lost friends and family in that war too. People that I loved are gone. Most of them were just trying to stay alive and protect the people they loved. I know that it’s no excuse, but it is the truth. Not that I would expect someone like you to understand. You’ve always been a hero. Golden girl of the Golden Trio.” 

Hermione couldn’t help but groan at the title. She hated it almost as much as the Brightest Witch of the age. All she had ever wanted was to live freely in the world she’d been born to be a part of. 

“You’re wrong.” The response she gave was immediate. 

“I know, I’ve already said it was wrong.” Pansy murmured. 

“No, that’s not what I mean. Well that was wrong, but I’m not perfect. I did things, awful things I’ll never be able to take back. But I don’t regret them, because they were all done to protect someone I loved.” The other witch looked skeptical but allowed Hermione to continue. “I killed people that night too. I didn’t even hesitate. They could have sat in the Great Hall, or been the parent of one of my classmates, but I did what I had to to survive. To make sure Harry could take him down when the time was right.” A tear slid down her cheek as she took a shaky breath. “I obliviated my parents. They have no idea who I am, that I even exist. Without magic they were defenseless, and I had to keep them safe. But that’s only half of it. I knew I'd do whatever it took to complete our mission. Our enemies wouldn’t hesitate so neither could I. I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it with them on my mind.” She was sobbing quietly now. The pain of losing her parents was something she’d dealt with every day, but she hadn’t told anyone the truth of it. None of them would understand. She wasn’t sure she really did herself, nor was she sure she wanted to.

“I’m so sorry, Hermione.” The other woman’s voice snapped her back to the present. Her hands came up to cup Hermione’s face, thumbs brushing the tears gently from her cheeks. A true sense of understanding seemed to glow in her brown eyes as she continued. “For what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing.” A sad sort of grin pulled at her lips. Leaning forward she pressed her forehead against Pansy’s focusing on nothing but the feeling of her tender caress. 

Both witches paused for a moment, brown meeting hazel before their lips met. Unlike all the kisses they had shared last night they took their time. It wasn’t greedy or lustful, but had a sense of completeness. A push and pull so perfect it felt as if they had done this a hundred times before. For the first time she found herself believing in whatever magic had bound them together. 

Whether they could make each other happy for the rest of their lives Hermione didn’t know. There was so very much for them to overcome, an entire past of rivalry and generations of prejudice. She hardly knew anything about the witch beyond the mask she’d worn their entire childhood, but she desperately wanted to. Hermione had never been one to back down in fear of what was to come, and there was no way she was starting now. 


	7. Epilogue- How the Stars Crossed

#  **Four Years Later**

Minerva had always considered herself a bit of a romantic. Her husband had died early in their marriage, meaning she’d never had the chance to have children. Once she’d taken the position as a professor and Head of House however, she’d taken to viewing the students of Gryffindor house as her own. She did all she could to ensure they would grow up to live lives that would make the world better. 

Her fellow professors always liked to gossip about what students they believed would end up together. It wasn’t something she had had more than passing interest in until nearly twenty years after she began teaching there. 

James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew certainly weren’t the first troublemakers she’d had to deal with in her time at Hogwarts, but they seemed much more proficient at it then others. Often getting away with their pranks and leaving virtually no evidence behind. The boys were a quite sharp thorn in her side, but they had quickly wormed their way into her heart. Seeing the boys grow into young men filled her with pride. 

They weren’t the only students she began to feel a fondness for. Lily Evans, was an exceptionally bright muggle-born girl and Minerva, like the rest of Hogwarts, knew James would have done almost anything to gain the witch’s affections. By the end of their sixth year, she couldn’t help but root for the boy as well. He had matured quickly after the young Black heir was thrown from his home, and except for asking the girl to accompany him on two separate Hogsmead weekends he had done nothing more but throw her longing looks. 

Albus had mentioned wanting her input in choosing Head Boy and Girl, and she couldn’t help herself from offering up Lily and James as Gryffindor options. She had been delighted they’d been chosen, and decided to fan the flames herself by assigning a group project when classes resumed for their last year. After assigning the two as partners it had taken less than a week for them to be seen together more often. Instead of his harassment like behavior of his youth, James was kind and considerate, taking great care with how he acted around the girl. She couldn’t help but smile when the two had married, and only regretted that they hadn’t had more time together. 

That same smile shone on her lips as she watched Pansy Parkinson make her way down one aisle, Hermione Granger coming down the other. Both women were dressed in white beaming at one another when they reached the altar, seeing the other for the first time. She had been quite surprised when her spell paired the two women together, but she’d had full confidence in the ancient magic. 

Her heart warmed as she watched the ceremony, the same love shining in their hazel and brown eyes that had been in the green and hazel of Harry’s parents not so long ago. The two had been inseparable since their last year of Hogwarts. The Headmistress was sure if not for Hermione pursuing her mastery and Pansy’s need to plan the perfect wedding that they would have likely been married following their graduation. 

Each and every one of the matches the spell had made were still together. Most married or well on their way to it. Although she hadn’t had her own hand in it, she was pleased to see that the young Malfoy heir and Harry were now dating as well. She was sure being the best men for their best friends had had a hand in it all, but was confident eventually they would have found one another just as the green eyed man’s parents had. 

There was an exceedingly short length of time when she’d worried her spell had backfired. Namely when the two young women had refused to have any contact with one another, but as the officiant pronounced the pair joined for life and the two shared their first kiss as a married couple, Minerva was certain she’d do it all over again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this story. I'd love to hear what you thought about the story, and I hope that you loved it half as much as I did writing it.

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